Bound in Black (18 page)

I placed my hand over his cupping my cheek. He smiled, and for a brief second, I remembered how I’d felt once as the object of his affection, as the reason for the heart-stopping smile of Thomas, my guardian angel. It was all a lie. All of it.

I curled my fingers around his hand and called my VS to the forefront, chanting in a repeated whisper, “
Flamma intus, flamma intus, flamma intus.
”

His serene expression contorted to fury, then fear as my VS channeled through my body down my arm, hand, fingers and into him. Black veins webbed across his perfect porcelain face and lit up with the brilliance of a burning star.

He jerked free of me with a cry and staggered back, his lit-up veins fading back behind the pretty mask.

I stalked forward. “You will die for what you did to me, to Jude, to Kat, to every poor soul who had the misfortune of being led astray by you.”

The truth hit home. He spun and leapt in one bound toward Bleed.

“No!” I lurched forward and grabbed Kat, afraid he’d try to take her.

In a flash of ice-cold wind, Damas took his minion and disappeared. Kat crumpled onto all fours, heaving with desperate sobs. I dropped to my knees and pulled her into my arms, letting her cry out all her anger and fear.

“It’s okay. Next time, I will kill him. And now he knows it.”

“George,” she whispered. “Please take me to George.”

“Vessel,” came Dommiel’s raspy call.

I stood and rushed to Dommiel while Kat pulled herself together. Staring at the daggers piercing his body and holding him in place against the wall, I swallowed the bile rising in my throat.

“This will hurt,” I said with regret.

“No more than I am already.”

The vacant eye socket was a ghastly sight. I focused on the task at hand and pulled out the daggers pierced through his ankles first, then his left wrist, then his right. He rolled into a ball on the floor, chest heaving.

“Dommiel, why would he do this to you? What had you done?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” he gasped out, curling his injured arms against his chest. “I helped you get into Lethe’s realm. I’m branded a traitor now.” He turned his face into the floor, avoiding the sight of me.

He’d helped me, and I’d not only saved Jude, but I’d killed one of the seven demon princes. News had traveled, and those responsible were sought out and punished. I had no idea how they figured out it was Dommiel, but my St. George medal lying on the desk was proof enough.

“Kat. I can’t leave him here. He has no protection.”

She didn’t tell me I was crazy and that we didn’t protect demons. Dommiel and I shared a blood bond. I couldn’t leave him alone. The next demon who found him would finish him off and take over as lord of New Orleans. He was injured and alone, ripe for the picking by the next predator who came along. And we were guardians of the defenseless.

Having regained her composure, though her eyes were red-rimmed, Kat came around and squatted next to him. “Give me your hand,” she said to the wounded and bleeding demon. Without looking at her, he reached out his one hand, the hooked arm still tucked by his middle. Kat reached out her other hand to me. “George. He will know what to do.”

We sifted onto the lovely, clean street in Chelsea, hauling a bloody, battered demon up the moonlit steps. Within a minute, we were up the elevator and entering George’s posh seven-thousand-square-foot flat overlooking the Thames. Dommiel’s knees buckled, and we gently lowered him to the sleek parquet wood floor.

“What in the bloody hell?” George rushed from the bedroom wing, wearing only a pair of gray boxer briefs, his chestnut hair in more disarray than normal. George always hid his chiseled body beneath fine, tailored clothes, but he definitely had a body built for battle.

“It was Damas,” I said, holding Dommiel’s head as he coughed up black blood.

George grew rigid at the name.

“He did this to Dommiel for helping me. I couldn’t leave him.”

George knelt at Dommiel’s side. “Move, Genevieve. Both of you, back away.”

“What are you going to do?” I asked, fearing the anger hardening George’s expression.

“I’m going to bring him to someone who can help him.” George lifted him and threw him over his shoulder. I had no idea how strong he truly was.

All the while, Kat leaned against the wall and watched George, saying nothing, despair reeking from her.

George walked toward the exit. He’d have to get outside his own wards to sift.

“Don’t you want to put some clothes on?” asked Kat.

“It’s dark enough, and he lives alone,” was his terse reply.

The door slammed shut. Kat pushed herself off the wall and walked into the den, then sank onto the sleek gray sofa with her head in her hands. I followed, adrenaline still pumping hard at the crushing realization that I’d put my trust in the hands of a demon prince. Of course he used me to send Jude to hell. I was such a fool.

“Stop beating yourself up,” said Kat, watching me pace the floor in front of her.

“Why should I? I was the one to put Jude’s life in danger, and now…now I know if he never comes back to me, it will certainly be my own stupidity to blame.”

“Damas knows how to beguile better than any of them. He studied you. He knew what to do, what to say to lure you into his web. Just as he did with me.”

I paced to the wall of windows overlooking the Thames, which rippled under the starry night. “And now he wants revenge.” Against Dommiel for helping me save Jude. And certainly against me. Oh no! I spun to Kat. “He’ll want revenge against me, Kat. My dad! Mindy!”

I rushed across the den. Kat caught my arm. “No. Wait, Gen.”

The door slammed. George reentered, black blood smeared on his arms and bare chest. “What now?”

“Damas will go after my dad next. Maybe even Mindy. I have to go to them.”

He halted me with a hand in the air and swept his cell from the charger on the marble countertop. He texted a message, then set the phone down.

“Alexander and Tarquin will be here soon. I’ll assign them guardian detail to your father and friend.”

“But I can’t let them—”

“Can’t let them what? Put their lives in danger? It’s what we do. Tarquin and Alexander are fitter for the job than you are, as you’ll only make a prime target of yourself. Besides, you can’t guard both at once, and Jude needs you by his side.”

I leaned over, hands on my knees, catching my breath, not having realized I was near hyperventilating with fear.

“Calm down,” said Kat, rubbing my back. “George is right.”

An opening and slamming of George’s door. I stood upright as the fierce, hard warrior, Tarquin, stepped into the room with Xander following, dressed in a black-on-gray tuxedo.

“You rang?” asked Xander in his casual tone. “Oh, we’re having a party and no one told me.”

“You’re a bit overdressed,” teased Kat, having shed her earlier anguish.

“It seems George is a bit underdressed. Ladies, I believe he has the right idea. Shall we shed some of these clothes together for a real party?”

“No time for this,” snapped George. “Damas is on the prowl.”

Both Tarquin and Xander straightened with tension at the sound of his name. Xander’s playful expression vanished at once.

“Who was his target?” asked Tarquin, his rough voice matching the rugged exterior.

“A demon in New Orleans, the one who helped Genevieve retrieve Jude from Lethe’s realm. We believe he will strike at her loved ones next. Alexander, you will guard her father. Tarquin, you will guard her best friend and roommate. There are wards in place, but neither of these individuals knows of the reality around them.”

The reality that demons were lurking and on the hunt…for me, and possibly for them because of who I am and what I’ve done.

“You’ll need to be discreet. Come,” said George, “I’ll provide you the details so you can be on your way.”

As Tarquin passed, I stopped him with a hand on his arm. “Thank you. For doing this for me. I can’t thank you enough.”

The man of stone dipped his chin. “It is our duty to protect the innocent. No need to thank me.” He walked on.

Xander paused before me and lifted my hand, brushing a quick kiss across my knuckles, all masculine grace and finesse. “Never fear, lady. We will watch out for them. We are all in this together. The burden cannot fall to one person alone.”

He was right. For the briefest of moments, my heart lightened for the fact that I was not alone—that
we
were not alone.

“Jude.” I walked toward the door and stopped by Kat. “He’s alone. I need to get back.” I hugged her tight. “Thank you. And I’m sorry for…for him.”

I wished she hadn’t had to encounter Damas again, after all she’d been through with him. Kat pulled away, her gaze finding George in the kitchen talking in hushed tones to the demon hunters who would now play guardian to Dad and Mindy.

“Don’t be sorry. It’s not your fault. All my fear and guilt is mine alone.”

“But you don’t have to bear it alone,” I said, squeezing her hand. “George loves you, you know.”

Her sharp green eyes swiveled to me. A sad smile quirked her mouth. “I know.”

I left with a new weight hanging heavy on my shoulders. I wondered if I’d ever be able to shed the monumental guilt from my heart, now that I’d brought Damas front and center, back between George and Kat. Too weary to think about it anymore, I turned away from thoughts of the evil prince who’d ruined so many lives and thought instead about the man who put my heart at peace.

Even though Jude had not yet wakened from his deep sleep, hope wouldn’t allow me to let go. And never would.

Chapter Fifteen

I’d taken a hot shower after returning from George’s penthouse in Chelsea. I never did ask where he’d taken Dommiel. He and Jude knew all kinds of sentinels, typically monks, who were healers and messengers for the Flamma of Light. I couldn’t get the vision out of my head of that moment when George laid eyes on Kat and I told him that Thomas, my alleged guardian angel, was in fact Damas and we’d encountered him at Dommiel’s club. I’d never seen that expression of blinding fear and fury warring on a man’s face. No, that wasn’t true. I’d seen Jude look very much the same the night he’d saved me from Danté.

I was relieved to be back at the safety of the cottage, watching over my charge. After washing the long night’s events from my body and my thoughts, I dried off and fumbled through the drawers in the bedroom. After pulling on a Union Jack T-shirt and a pair of white cotton panties, I jerked up a pair of sweatpants, eager to finally lie down and relax. And then my nail caught.

“Ow. Damn it.” The nail had torn at the quick. As I stood there, my sweatpants having fallen to my ankles, the air in the room changed, became charged with electric heat. I glanced up.

Jude stared at me. My heart dropped right out of my chest into my stomach. He still lay as I’d left him, but he tilted his head in my direction. His eyes—heaven help me—gazed vacantly. His irises were full black, the whites a murky gray, swirling with the mist of Lethe’s lair.

“Jude?” No response.

I jerked on the sweatpants and ran around to his side, picking up his hand and squeezing it between mine. His focus followed me. And though he stared fixedly into my eyes, there was no recognition, no spark of light, nothing. He didn’t resist when I took his hand. He didn’t move at all.

I brushed the hair away from his eyes. “Jude. Baby, can you hear me?”

His brow pinched together in a frown at my touch. He turned his head to the side, his vacant stare settling on the window, where snow drifted down in fat flakes.

“Can you hear me?”

Nothing. For minutes, I simply held his hand and wondered what to do next.

“Okay. Maybe you’re hungry. Maybe you’ll eat something for me now.”

I rushed into the kitchen and heated the stove at once. In the few days he’d been home, I’d managed to get him to swallow only a few spoonfuls of broth. Very few.

Knowing his system was still weak, I heated a bowl of tomato soup, adding just a dash of Tabasco the way he liked it. The way he used to like it, anyway. I couldn’t imagine how happy watching him take every spoonful would make me. He continued to stare out the window, but when I touched the spoon to his lips and coaxed him, he opened and swallowed.

“Good. This is good. Your body needs food, sustenance.”

I put the straw that was in the glass of cold water up to his lips, which were still dry but no longer cracked and bleeding. To my surprise, he drank half the glass, taking in long, deep gulps.

“Okay. What would you like to do now, Jude?”

I pulled his heavy hand between mine and pressed my lips to his knuckles, doing my damnedest not to cry at this paltry improvement. Still no response.

“That’s fine. You don’t have to say anything.” As if he would. “How about I just tell you what’s been going on in the world since you left?”

I had no intention of mentioning demons or hell or the Blood Moon. Nor would I tell him about the backlash of riots in France since the terrorist bombing at the Eiffel Tower, or how Europe was in a violent uproar at the prospect of future terrorist attacks. Sadly, no one had any idea that something far worse than a war on terrorism was coming. I’d not fill his mind with any of that negative shit, so I tried to think of trivial things to fill the silence and let him know I was here.